


Liminal Spaces

by Ravensandstars



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 09:27:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13610433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravensandstars/pseuds/Ravensandstars
Summary: All Trafalgar Law wanted to do was buy a pack of cigarettes.  He never expected a weird blonde guy to whisk him away for a night he would never forget.  Law learns the hard way that Grand Line City is not what it seems. Coralaw Modern AU





	Liminal Spaces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klutzysurgeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klutzysurgeon/gifts).



> Enjoy!

Trafalgar Law is one hundred percent sure he’s finally lost it.

           It’s one o’clock in the morning and all he wants is to get his goddamn pack of cigarettes and leave.  Instead he’s staring at the back of the most outrageous bright pink feathered jacket on what must be the tallest guy he’s ever seen. The guy is waxing poetic about the shitty QwikMart pizza he has in his hand. 

           “Can’t you finish your lecture somewhere else,” Law mutters, just enough for the weird guy to hear.  Watching the smokes for so long breaks the final thread of patience he has left. 

           When he turns around Law regrets talking altogether.  He doesn’t think it’s possible for someone to wear that much makeup at once.  There are a set of sapphire blue eyes and wavy blonde hair that almost make the clown paint look pretty.

           “You should be more patient,” the man says with a laugh so high-pitched it almost sounds like a giggle. The guy’s got a cigarette hanging between his lips and Law’s about to point out the no smoking sign when he realizes _it’s not there._  The ‘No Smoking’ sign is nowhere to be seen.  In its place is a bright purple sign that says “No Looking at the Void.”  At first Law thinks it’s some weird mistake, that he’s ended up at another convenience store, but the sign above the cashier’s head indeed reads ‘QwikMart’.

           “Never been here after midnight, have you?” the weird guy says, and holds out a hand. “Corazon. Nice to meet you.”

           Law takes the offered hand and shakes it for a second before letting go as though burned.

           “Trafalgar Law. What makes it so different at midnight?” he asks, more than a little annoyed. All he wants are some cigarettes, he isn’t in the mood to deal with this kind of shit.  Besides, the smoke from Corazon’s cigarette is making his cravings worse.

“It’s the grand line my friend; strange things happen here,” Corazon says with a smile.

“Listen, I don’t care what kind of place Grand Line City is there is no way that a store can suddenly change its policies at night,” Law replies.

For a few moments, Corazon leans his head back and laughs hysterically, prompting a “Shh!” from a gaunt man by the fridges Law hadn’t even noticed. 

“You must be new here, my friend; Grand Line City is unlike any city in the world,” Corazon says.

“I’ve heard that plenty of times, about plenty of cities.”

“Okay, you know what, go buy your cigs and I’ll show you what I mean,” Corazon says, shoving the last of the pizza into his mouth (when had he been eating it?).

“Hold on, how did you know I wanted cigarettes,” Law asks suspiciously.

“You were staring at my cigarette like it was the last drop of water in a desert,” Corazon replies, smile face-splitting at this point.

Law, scowling, pushes past the weird guy. He almost drops his wallet when he takes a look at the cashier. It’s the usual guy, Larry, but instead of being sixty and bald he looks like he’s in his twenties, with thick blond curls and sharp jutting cheekbones.        “What can I get ya,” he says without looking, none of the usual friendliness, or even _emotion_ in his voice.  Law swallows down the surprise and says, with just the slightest tremor in his voice, “Just a pack of menthols.”

“’Kay, it’s gonna be a buck fifty,” Young Larry says. 

Law wants to correct him, but the situation is already unbelievable enough.  Besides, it doesn’t hurt to save eight dollars from time to time.

 

“Okay, I’ll admit, this is kind of weird,” Law says when he comes outside to stand by Corazon.  The night sky is neon purple but he’s trying to ignore that; trying to prioritize what to freak out over while he walks around with this guy he just met.

“Wow, you must have a high threshold for weird,” Corazon says, then hands over a light while Law fumbles for his own.

“Kind of.  I have a weird group of friends.” Law shrugs.  Despite the freezing temperatures just a few hours ago it’s now warm enough to take off his jacket. 

“Weird friends, huh? Shoot me a few names, I know a lot of people.”

Law raises his eyebrows and for a moment says nothing.  He doesn’t really want to tell this guy anything, but there is something so weirdly alluring about Corazon that Law can’t help it.

God, what is wrong with him?  The guy is wearing clown makeup!

“I hang out with a guy named Luffy. His weird friends and brother sometimes chill too,” Law eventually says.

“Wait wait, Luffy?  Sweet kid, right? A little excitable, with a scar right here?” Corazon says, dragging his finger across his right cheekbone, smudging the makeup in the process.  Law is a little weirded out because yes, that is the exact same Luffy, and this guy looks too old to be hanging out with eighteen-year-olds (not that he, at 25, is much better).

“Yeah, that’s him all right.”

“Well, he usually hangs around the Baratie, but that’s too far to go now. Why don’t I show you one of my favorite haunts, it’s just around the corner,” Corazon says, and for a moment Law deliberates. 

Now, Trafalgar Law is usually a cautious man, very cautious.  A lot of shit has happened to him, and he keeps everyone pretty distant, even his so-called ‘best friend’.  All the same, something about this guy just beckons to him.  Trafalgar Law knows, deep in his gut, that if he doesn’t say yes, he will regret it.

“Okay, sure, show me.”

Corazon is practically bouncing on his heels when he grabs Law’s hand and leads him down the street.  They pass an old dollar store and exactly seven liquor stores.  The brick buildings all look even more run down, black moss like veins creeping through.  Corazon occasionally breaks the silence to explain certain things, like why all the signs suddenly say to mind the void or be wary of the creatures. 

“You see, as far as any of us can tell, the void just takes over for a while, and sometimes there are little pockets of nothingness in alleys and abandoned houses.  People who go through the vortex don’t come back.”

“What, you mean none of them?” Law asks, glancing at a black sphere across the street, brows furrowing.  It shouldn’t exist, of course, but there it is, very opaque and pulsing with weird energy.

Law doesn’t want to touch it with a ten-foot pole.

“Yeah, it’s really weird. I’ve tried to go near it but the vacuum energy is- oh here we are!”  Law looks up to see what kind of place they are going to, and his jaw drops.

This is the hospital he works at, at least during the day.  Now the shiny steel looks like platinum among the dilapidated brick, and there is a bright neon sign at the top of the building.  It reads:

GRAND LINE BAR/BOWLING/CINEMA

“I know it’s a weird combo,” Corazon begins, almost apologetic, “but this place really has the _best_ bowling and drinks.”

“Out of everything I’ve experienced today, that is the least weird,” Law says, voice deadpan.  They’re still holding hands, and despite the slight discomfort, he doesn’t bring up the fact that their hands are linked.  They walk into the triplex like that, going through the lobby of a movie theater stuck in the fifties to a bowling alley stuck in the eighties. 

The carpet is electric blue, the walls shiny onyx, and everything is lit with violet blacklights. The color clash almost gives him a headache.  Teams of wildly varying ages play across several lanes.

Despite the shouts of excitement and idle chatter the bowling alley seems very quiet.

“Brought a sweetheart today, Cora? Twenty percent off if you did,” says the girl at the counter.  She winks as they choose shoes.  Now Law gets why the guy brought him, but he shrugs it off.  He knows what people are like. 

The girl hurries off to grab their shoes. Her long dark curls and low-cut blouse do not distract him from the long metal prosthetic in place of a right arm. It looks expensive, like high-grade titanium, dark grey and shiny.  It’s not a metal often used at all, but some of the richer folks get it because they think it looks nicer.

God, she’s so young. 

Law tries not to think about it, quickly pulling himself out of doctor mode before he can get melancholy.

They change into their shoes and are directed to lane five.  The bar Corazon was talking about is near them. So is a broken-down arcade where a man, at least sixty, rides a motorbike simulator, with an unnaturally wide smile on his face.

“So, what do you think, Law?” Corazon asks as he calibrates the machine that records their points, gingerly typing out their names on worn plastic keys.

“It’s… all right,” Law mutters.  He is a little embarrassed to say it, but the place is pretty damn cool.  It looks a lot like somewhere he would have hung out when he was younger, if he’d had any friends then.

“I’m glad. Makes bumping into one another worth it. Doesn’t it?” Corazon says, and Law grudgingly nods.

Somehow there are two burgers at the table already, along with a bucket of fries. 

“Oh, the staff always know what you want,” Corazon says dismissively when Law asks about the food.  At this point he just shrugs and picks up the bowling ball that rolls up for him.  It’s all black except for a strange design of what looks like a cog surrounding a stylized smiley face. 

For a while Law gets lost in his own thoughts.  Corazon lets out a whoop every time he scores a strike and Law rolls his eyes.  When the mood strikes them, they have bits of conversation, but mostly they listen to the synthpop playing over the loudspeakers.

This is the most comfortable Law has ever been around anyone.  The tension of working at the hospital, of trying to be perfect for his parents, of trying to keep it all together, slips away. No one here cares about his baggy ripped jeans he’s wearing, or that the band tee he wears is practically a relic.

He can’t explain the rush of warm feelings towards Corazon either.  The man does everything with childish excitement.  He is unbelievably clumsy and doesn’t seem to care who knows it. 

When the first round is over they sit down to eat.  The food really is how Law likes it: A hamburger with every possible topping and no bun.  Corazon laughs for a good five minutes.

“How can you eat a burger without bread,” Corazon chokes out. 

“Easy. Bread is fucking gross,” Law says between bites.

“Oh, my poor dear Law, that’s simply not true,” Corazon says dramatically, swishing his hair out of his face and sighing so loudly the group in the next lane over give them weird looks.

They both dissolve into laughter and continue to eat. The food is really good here.

 

So are the drinks, Law realizes, when they make their way to the bar after another round of bowling.  The bartender is a big guy who looks a lot like Luffy’s great-uncle Rayleigh.  He wears a dark dress shirt, and rests muscular forearms against the bar, long white hair tied back with a black elastic band.

“The usual, my friend?”

“Two, actually,” Corazon says, pointing to me.  Not-Rayleigh looks at him with a weird glint in his eye and a smile on his lips.

“It’s about time you brought someone ‘round, my friend.  Your drinks will be right up!”

Corazon looks uncomfortable for the first time that night, rubbing the back of his neck hard enough to leave a little bit of redness.

“So… you really do come here often.” Law says, trying to break the uncomfortable silence 

“Yeah, have been for years,” Corazon replies.  That is when Law asks the question that has been burning in his mind.

“So, what is this weird void place for anyways?  Is it just a natural thing? Does everyone from Grand Line City do this?”

Corazon shakes his head.  “No.  The only people who end up here are people who have something, or someone, missing from their lives.”

Law closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.  Of course, it would be something like that.  He’s been so damn lonely for so long that he is at his wit’s end.  At this point Law’s parents are considering finding someone themselves (which is not a very exciting prospect).

The clink of twin glasses on the counter force Law to look up and he turns to Corazon, whose eyes are downcast.  As much as he hates to admit it he and the guy have a _lot_ in common.  Maybe, just maybe Law has to let go of his reservations.

           “Of course, I’d find a date who like drinks this strong,” Law says.  He mock-groans after he takes a sip of the bright pink drink.  Corazon Looks up and his smile is so bright it could light up a small country.

           “Barbie dream house. The cocktail that nightmares are made of,” Corazon says.

           “Oh God, I don’t want anything of Barbie’s near my mouth,” Law laughs.

           The bartender brings plates of peanuts to them with a wink.

           “Don’t know how long you might be here Dr. Law,” he says.  Law gives a start and turns to the bartender, then back to Corazon.

           “He knew my name, I think I know him…”

           Before Law can finish Corazon puts a finger to his lips.  “Names are sacred here, and so are faces.  Even if you recognize someone, say nothing.  Remember, this is everyone’s private sanctuary.”

           Law nods, and doesn’t look back at Not-Rayleigh.  That kind of anonymity is amazing and Law loves it, but something doesn’t sit right with him.

           “Why did he say my name then?”

           Corazon shrugs, practically inhaling the drink.

           “The guy has pretty loose morals on this side of the grand line.  Still an amazing old guy, but sometimes he doesn’t care that much,” Corazon says.

           Law doesn’t mention it, but he gets why. Rayleigh hasn’t had the easiest life.  His best friends both killed, getting married for convenience, Luffy’s Grandpa his last living best friend, it’s enough to make anyone want to disappear. 

           Corazon looks to his watch for a moment and his brows furrow.  He throws a few dollars to Not-Rayleigh and beckons for Law to follow him. Their hands join again like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

           “It’s almost time to go,” he sighs, and Law is filled with irrational anger.  He only just met the guy and he shouldn’t be so attached, but he grips the warm hand in his more tightly all the same. 

           “How will I find you again? Why don’t you give me your number?” Law asks once they reach the QwikMart.  Corazon shakes his head, but the playful smile never leaves his face.

           “That’s not how things work here, Law.  How about this; I’ll give you my coat, and you can find me that way.” Corazon takes off his jacket and throws it over Law’s shoulders.  He doesn’t have anything else to go by, so he nods.  The coat is distinctive enough, anyways, so Law reasons that he can find Corazon pretty easily.

           At least he hopes. 

           For a moment they stand there, looking at one another.  The air grows warmer by the minute, and Corazon begins to step away, but Law stops him.  “At least leave me something else to remember you by,” he says breathlessly. 

           Their first kiss is awkward as they try to bridge the gap between one another for what is little more than a peck on the lips. 

           “I have to play a little hard to get.”  Corazon winks and he is gone.

           Law is in his bed again, under the covers and fully clothed.  The pack of cigarettes makes a dent in his pocket, and he feels the weight of a feathered jacket around his shoulders. 

           Law doesn’t mean to, but he’s so relieved and happy he starts sobbing, overcome with emotion.  He checks the clock. It’s eight in the morning, an hour before his shift.  He has plenty of time to wash before facing that.

           At eight-thirty, Law is almost at the hospital, Corazon’s jacket safely stowed away in a vacuum-sealed bag. 

           “Hey Doctor. What’s up? You look tired?”  Chopper, his intern and assistant, squints, clipboard already in hand. 

           “Long night, let’s go,” is all Law says. 

           That afternoon he foregoes the plans with his parents to take a fifteen-minute bus ride to city hall.

           “Listen, he must have been at least six feet six, with blond hair and dark blue eyes,” Law says.  No one has lost a jacket and he is getting desperate.  Finally, however, recognition lights up the receptionist’s eyes. 

           “I believe I’ve found who you’re looking for.”

          

           Law walks into the marine recruitment office, armed with a printout that has a picture and a name. 

           “I’m looking for Donquixote Rocinante,” Law says bluntly when the officer greets him. 

           “Rocinante?  Let me see if he’s here,” replies the officer, a short chubby guy with hair dyed bright pink.  Huh, Law didn’t think the marines allowed that kind of freedom.

           All thoughts are cut off, however, when _he_ walks into the room.

           Rocinante is far cleaner cut than Corazon.  His hair is slicked back. With no makeup he looks classically handsome, with a Roman nose and a jutting jaw.  All traces of femininity are gone with the white uniform and black boots. 

           Rocinante’s eyes wided for a fraction of a second before he schools them back into a neutral expression. 

           “A new recruit, Coby?”

           “Um, I didn’t ask sir, he was looking for you actually,” Coby says.  Rocinante nods and lets the ghost of a smile cross his pale lips,

           “In that case why don’t you come with me?  I was about to step out.”

           Law nods mutely, following Rocinante.

           As soon as they’re out Rocinante’s neutral expression melts to a soft smile.

           “Didn’t take you long, did it?” Rocinante says.

           Law can feel his cheeks burn.  “I was curious,” he replies.

           “Totally natural. I’m about to have lunch, why don’t you join me?  It’ll be our second date.”

           “Oh please, the bowling alley was hardly what you’d call a first date,” Law retorts, and Rocinante shrugs. 

           “I guess you’re right.  Pick a place then, and we’ll go.”

           Law and Rocinante end up at a tiny Indian place with little bread and a lot of sweets.  It’s dimly lit, natural light streaming through small windows.

           “So, where do we go from here?” Rocinante asks, with a mouthful of chana masala.

           “I don’t know. Why don’t we just start with today?” Law shrugs.  He’s trying to keep his cool, doesn’t want to lose this guy before they get a chance to properly date 

           Somehow, Law thinks, he and Rocinante were destined to meet, even if it did require a little help from the void.


End file.
